


Dappled Light

by tricksterity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Smut, actually pwp, i can't believe it, lazy morning sex, my first pwp guys be proud of me, slight breathplay, stiles' age is questionable so not technically underage???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loves waking to the feeling of Peter's warm body behind him and fingers on his throat.</p><p>(This is PWP, sorta fluffy??? but mainly just morning sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dappled Light

Stiles woke up to the feeling of a warm body behind him and soft, open-mouthed kisses being trailed down the nape of his neck. He smiled and burrowed back into the warmth, an arm coming under him to drag fingertips feather-soft up his sternum, settling gently over his throat in the hollow under his jaw. Stiles leaned back into the strong body behind him, held comfortably with another arm settling over his side, hand splayed on his stomach. Stiles hummed, the vibrations making those fingers tighten infinitesimally.

 

The kisses turned into little, teasing nips, traveling up his jaw when the hand at his throat turned him. He kept his eyes shut as the teeth caught his earlobe, tugging lightly. Stiles felt his lips turn up at the corners, the teeth leaving as a nose trailed down his neck, inhaling lightly. Scenting.

 

The hand splayed on his stomach moved downwards, slowly, torturously, just barely tickling the hair that led under his sweatpants. Stiles groaned a little at the sensation, and he felt lips smile on his neck. Stiles moved back into the body behind him, feeling something hard against his ass, and he moved back into it, a low growl emanating from the man behind him. Stiles couldn’t help the smirk that wormed its way onto his face. He got a nip on his neck for that, and a shiver rolled down his spine.

 

“Patience, darling,” a low, velvet voice said, right by his ear, warm breath brushing over his skin. A thumb began to move back-and-forth gently on his throat, ghosting over his thudding pulse, slow, as he was still not entirely awake.

 

So Stiles bit his lip and waited patiently, enjoying the feel of being held and being pressed so tightly against his lover. Minutes passed, and those fingers on his lower stomach finally moved, hooking around his pants, pulling the soft material down, leisurely and smoothly. Stiles moved so he could flick the pants off and over his ankles, the fabric pooling on the floor next to the bed. He could now feel the bare skin of the man behind him, their legs sliding together, all the hair standing up on his body. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, it was always so raw and sensual in the early morning sunlight.

 

Stiles bit his lip as a hand slid unhurriedly down his thigh, gripping it tightly, gently manoeuvring his leg over the body behind him. Completely exposed, encased in the warmth of body heat and the sunlight spilling directly onto his skin through the half-open curtains. Fingers played over his skin, following the freckles on his skin, dappled in sunlight, the thumb still gently rubbing along his throat. Hips began to grind forward into him, a hand torturously close to where he needed it. Stiles whined, and he heard a huff of laughter from behind him.

 

“I’ll take care of you,” he said.

 

“ _Peter_ …” Stiles whined. He could almost hear Peter give in as he wrapped a hand around his half-hard cock, and Stiles let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Stiles moved his arm back to card his fingers through the hair at the base of Peter’s neck, tightening slightly when Peter tightened his own grip. His pulse under Peter’s thumb was increasing with the speed of Peter’s hand, and he whined loudly when the hand was removed. Peter placated him with a kiss onto his neck, and Stiles tightened his grip in the man’s hair. A hand on his chest until his heart had slowed down, and then it disappeared. A click of a bottle, squirting sound, and another click.

 

It felt like an age before he felt a finger, and he almost twitched in surprise at the cool temperature, expecting the lube to be warmer seeing as Peter’s body heat must’ve warmed it some. The finger teased him, torturing him, and Stiles pulled harder on Peter’s hair, knowing it was what the older man liked. (He’d spent a _lot_ of time experimenting on how far that particular kink went). Stiles let out a little moan as Peter finally breached him, relaxing as he’d done so many times before. Stiles bit his lip on impulse as Peter’s finger moved slowly inside him, horribly slow, tormenting him, punishing him for the simple reason that Peter was a goddamn fucking sadist. Stiles impatiently bore down on that finger, and Peter nipped him hard on his neck.

 

“Now, now, Stiles, you’ll get what you want, in time,” Peter whispered, quiet in the morning air. “I want to open you up slowly, listen to your moans and those little noises of choked-off air you make, want to feel you shiver and whine, beg quietly with your voice morning-quiet and sleep-soft, open you and relax you until I can slip right in.” Stiles let out a noise he’d never made before, and he knew Peter was fucking smirking. Stiles just held on, his teeth leaving his now swollen lip, little noises slipping up his throat and out of his mouth, Peter’s dick twitching each time.

 

Finally, Peter slipped in a second finger; both working to ruin Stiles, his hand tightening in Peter’s hair so hard he thought a few short hairs came out. Peter pulled him impossibly closer, spreading Stiles out above him like a meal to the gods (or himself). The fingers brushed his prostate, sending sparks and shivers up his spine, making his toes curl, his fingers tighten, something between a moan and whine leave his throat. Peter hummed behind him, incessantly brushing against it, just enough to make him shiver, but not nearly enough, still not when a third finger joined the others.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Peter,” Stiles gasped, feeling his thighs shake and twitch, unable to control himself or his body. Peter smirked.

 

“You’re so pretty, Stiles, you don’t even know. Offering yourself up like this, letting me utterly ruin you so gently, you can’t even _imagine_ what you are doing to me. You are entirely _delectable_ ,” Peter praised, rewarding him with a hard press to his prostate that had Stiles seeing stars, eyes squeezed so tight it hurt, the orange and yellow streaking across his eyelids.

 

“Please, Peter, please, stop teasing me, fuck me, please god, pleaseplease _please_ ,” Stiles rambled, unable to hold in his begging. “Fuck me slow and hard and rough and gentle until I don’t know my own name, please goddamn, just do _something_ ,” he gasped.

 

“As you wish,” Peter whispered. He removed his fingers, Stiles whimpering, and Peter calmed him with a brush of his thumb across his throat. Another slick noise, a familiar feeling, and Stiles had the breath shoved out of his lungs as Peter pushed in, just as slow as everything else had been. Stiles held his breath, couldn’t breathe until Peter was filling him completely, clawed fingers on his neck and thigh. (He wouldn’t admit how much he loved that).

 

Little breaths of air got punched out of him with every slow thrust, giving him what he wanted and not enough, his brain whiting out, forgetting everything but Peter holding him, around him, inside him, uneven breath and tips of claws and pleasure slowly building up, cresting like a wave in the far off horizon. Peter gave little grunts behind him, only audible because of their closeness, Stiles unable to do anything but take it, mouth hanging open, toes curling with every thrust against his prostate, Peter at the perfect angle.

 

Stiles whined as he felt his orgasm build up inside him, Peter’s claws digging in as little sharp points of burning hot on his skin, five around his neck and five on his thigh where Peter held him open. Stiles couldn’t do anything but gasp for breath as he felt Peter move, slowly and torturously bringing him over the edge and as a broken moan slipped out of his throat he felt Peter groan and come inside him.

 

“Come on sweetheart,” Peter purred. “You can do it.”

 

Peter’s clawed hand moved from his thigh to his cock and with one touch Stiles was arching up and coming so hard his vision whited out feeling like he could barely breathe. He came back a few moments later with both of Peter’s arms wrapped around him, staring straight up at the ceiling.

 

“Well good morning to you,” Stiles managed to gasp out, and felt Peter’s laugh rumble from beneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I just posted my first PWP I can't believe it guys my delicate asexuality is hanging by a tenuous thread. I actually forgot about this file on my computer because I'd thought it was unfinished but ??? Yeah. Ur welcome pls leave kudos/comments xxx
> 
> **If you liked my writing and you're interested in me writing something for you, click[HERE](http://tricksterity.tumblr.com/post/140544637431) for more information! **


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